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FERDINAND II.

STRANGER in Vienna, a few years ago, might have had his attention arrested by seeing all eyes directed toward a plain, old-fashioned green calêche, drawn through the streets by a pair of very unostentatious horses. He would be much perplexed to understand the cause of the commotion among the crowd. In the calêche he would see a mild, inoffensive-looking gentleman, dressed in a brown, shabby overcoat, and with a hat looking much the worse for wear. The old gentleman nods with friendly carelessness to individuals or groups on the right hand and the left, and the conviction is impressed upon the mind that it must be some retired merchant, who has long accustomed himself to habits of rigid economy, but who, from some unknown cause, attracts particular attention in the city. By his side sits a spruce-looking young man, with well-trimmed whiskers and mustache, who can apparently dispose of any fortune his father may leave for his use. That old gentleman is Francis II., emperor of Austria. The young man by his side is Ferdinand, his eldest son, the crownprince. Notwithstanding, however, these amusing eccentricities, these bland smiles, and this easy exterior, Francis is none the less a monarch—a despot. His will is law. He has no Constitution to trammel him; no Parliament to grant or withhold supplies. He speaks, and it is done. His people are his slaves-his willing slaves; and they love K 2 113